


The Hunted

by JollyOzzyJones



Category: Predators (2010), The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Blood, F/M, Gore, I mean, M/M, Violence, its Musketeers dropped into the Predators movie basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-09-27 00:04:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9935807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JollyOzzyJones/pseuds/JollyOzzyJones
Summary: Prompt from the Musketeers kinkmeme: Athos is an elite member of the French Intelligence Service and Porthos a elite Commando in the British Army, they find themselves dropped on this planet with all their weapons and a few other various soldiers, killers and criminals. A short time later they come across a cautious Aramis and his big gun, a sniper/medic in the Chilean military, who's also a survivor from a previous hunt thanks in part to his experience in the rain-forests of Chile and has learned the hard way to be wary of others that have been dropped here. The three quickly team up however and bond as they try to survive on this strange world, Aramis filling them in on what little he's learned of the world and the 'Demons' hunting them.Unfortunately not all the other survivors of the previous hunts they run across are like Aramis, being good and (relatively) sane, most in fact are mad and very dangerous and not all of them human. And that's not even dealing with the camouflaged monsters hunting them for sport.





	1. Athos and Porthos

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I'm on a roll, two fanfics in as many days? =D  
> This work is far from complete, and though I have a good idea where it's going and even have the last chapter written, it will take a while to get completed, so apologies in advance!  
> This work includes some graphic descriptions of injuries, sickness and violence, but nothing worse than the Predators movie really. Aramis/Porthos is endgame, but don't expect much more than emotional attachment and the odd kiss, they are running for their lives 95% of the time, so no shenanigans... Maybe a sequel one day? who knows xD  
> If I forgot any important tags let me know and I'll fix it! any suggestions are welcome, and since this work is in progress I might even incorporate some ideas, as long as it doesn't conflicts with what I have planned, so let me know!  
> This work is not beta-read, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Disclaimer! I don't own anything you can recognize here, including characters, setting and some plot devices. I also don't intend to offend armed forces of any kind or country here, I have a great deal of respect for people that put their lives on the line to protect others. I also don't mean to offend any category of sports or professions mentioned, I try to avoid stereotypes, and in my defense I can only say that the flaws of the characters I wrote are flaws of the characters and not any real person, and they're also not representations of what I think real life professionals of these sports are like.

  
  
Wind. Rushing through his hair, slapping against his face. A sense of weightlessness.  
  
“What?” Athos thinks, slowly blinking his eyes open. Blue and green. The two colours alternating dizzyingly, until he realises he’s looking at the sky and then a dense forest. “What?” he repeats, this time aloud, but he can’t hear his own voice through the rushing wind. Then it hits him like a truck, he’s falling, dropping from an unimaginable height.  
  
“ _Putain de bordel de merde!_ ” he yells, twisting ineffectively in the air, adrenalin surging through his veins, and that’s when he notices the harness strapped around his torso holding something against his back, a parachute? The forest is so much closer now, and he can’t find the ripcord. “ _Merdemerdemerdemerdemerde!_ ”. His heart is hammering against his ribcage, and he’s going to die.  
  
A red light starts to blink on the harness right at the centre, and he hits it several times, maybe it’s a pressure release of some sort, he rationalizes frantically, but nothing happens. He’s about to cry out (useless, he _knows_ , but he’s going to _die_ ) when the parachute deploys automatically, and the jerking motion forces the air out of his lungs. He’s too close to the forest canopy, still going too fast, but at least he won’t die, he thinks. Probably. The smaller branches slap his face and arms, snag and rip his clothes as he falls, but he luckily avoids any large limbs.  
  
He blacks out for a few seconds upon hitting the forest ground. Jerking back awake, he scrambles back to his feet, his Heckler and Koch G3 rifle pointing around in a wide arch following his line of sight. His heart still too fast, he slowly exhales, not seeing any immediate threats. He mentally checks himself over, noticing no major injuries or broken limbs, which is a good start, at least. He had just started to lower his weapon when a sudden rustling behind him alerted to a presence at his back. Spinning quickly and dropping to one knee, he points his weapon in the general direction he heard the sound, and almost shoots the figure automatically, but his training kicks in and he waits.  
  
A man stumbles out of the shadows of the dense foliage, and startles upon seeing Athos. He moves to get his own weapon up (an honest to god L128A1 shotgun), but his dark skin pales considerably and he stumbles again, holding his right shoulder tightly. The large man collapses, but manages to stay on his knees, breathing in agonized short gulps. Athos sees the red blood running between the fingers and the dark stain spreading in the man’s tac vest, and knows it’s bad. For some reason, he lowers his weapon and rushes forward, throwing caution to the wind.  
  
“ _Est-ce que tu vas bien_?” Athos asks, crouching next to the man, carefully raising his hands to show his intention of helping, not harming.  
  
“What?” is the reply he gets. “Is that French? Sorry, I know nothing of French” he whispers now, screwing his eyes shut in pain. Athos, considerably more confused, switches to English.  
  
“Are you alright? How bad is it?” he can’t think of any way he would end up in the middle of a tropical forest in the middle of a drill exercise in the Pyrenees, let alone find another clearly military man who only speaks English.  
  
“A fucking rod or something impaled me” he grunted. “I fell down smack in the middle of some trap, this hole opened right under me, full of spikes and shit.” Athos slowly helped him get out of his vest, exposing the damage. “What the bloody hell happened? Who took me, and where is this place? There are no fucking tropical forests in Scotland!”  
  
“I have no idea,” Athos replied blandly, wincing in sympathy seeing the hole going through the man’s shoulder “since I was in the Pyrenees, and there are no tropical forests there either.” Internally, Athos was panicking slightly. Whoever had taken them had to have a lot of power, to kidnap two men in broad daylight and move them that quickly to another place apparently very far (where were they after all, the Amazon? It looked very South American to him, but what did he know? He had only seen it in documentaries…). And more importantly, what was the reason? Ransom? It would make more sense to keep them captive if that was the case, instead of dropping them in the middle of nowhere. Well, first things first. “Well, my name is Athos de la Fere, and I think it would be a good idea to work together to figure out what is going on and get out of here, wherever that is, what do you think?”  
  
“I’m Porthos, Porthos du Vallon, it’s nice to meet ya, definitely the first good thing since the parachute thing decided to work today.” He actually laughed, and then promptly swore a blue streak as Athos sprayed a generous amount of PVP-I on both sides of the wound and wrapped it tightly with the bandages he found on his own first aid kit.  
  
A shrill scream startled them badly, and in the blink of an eye they were both on their feet and with their weapons pointed in the direction the sound came from – up? Sure enough, another scream sounded, this time closer. Someone else was falling, not far from them. Athos and Porthos shared a look, and with a nod decided to investigate. 

 

* * *

 

Athos takes the lead, both recognising Porthos is not in top form. What they end up seeing is a blonde man about their age, winded in the middle of a clearing in the forest, cursing and trying to untangle himself from the parachute cords.  
  
“Oh, hello!” he says, noticing them and throwing a nervous look at their weapons. “Mind giving me a hand? That must have been a wild party, I don’t remember going skydiving! Ha!”  
  
“Who are you?” Porthos asks, slowly moving closer and lowering his weapon.  
  
“The name’s Emile Bonnaire, at your service” he grins and adds a little bow, even though its hindered by his current position squatting in the forest ground. “And who might be my saviours?”  
  
“Capitaine Athos de la Fère, GIGN.”  
  
“Wow mate, nice!” Porthos whistles, smiling at Athos and managing to get Bonnaire free of the cords. “Liutenant Porthos, 3rd Commando Brigade, Royal Marines.” Athos stares at him pointedly, lifting an eyebrow. Bonnaire however adds:  
  
“I feel very inadequate now in such excellent company! I’m merely an entrepreneur!” He babbles “I just deal in high risk investments, but nothing as risky as you guys putting your life on the line like you do, to protect us all! Ha!”  
  
“Right” Athos interrupts, uncomfortable “Shall we try to find our way out of here then?”  
  
“You know where ‘here’ is then?” A voice interrupts, and Athos and Porthos immediately get their weapons trained on the newcomer “whoa, calm down girl scouts, we’re all in this together from what I heard so far” the man, a bit shorter than Porthos and dark blonde hair drawls, leaning against a tree. Athos and Porthos reluctantly lower their weapons, but keep them at hand, and Athos drawls back like a professional:  
  
“It seems you have us at a disadvantage then, you know more about us than we do about you.”  
  
“Forgive my lapse, I’m not used to having to introduce myself, I thought you would all recognise me.” He sniffed.  
  
“You’re Gaudet!” Bonnaire exclaims, excited “You’re a great MMA fighter, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” Athos and Porthos blink at each other slowly, while Bonnaire shakes the man’s hand enthusiastically.  
  
“Right. Shall we then?” Athos asks again. A weird sound however has them all on edge in an instant. It sounds like something falling, something large. They all look up to the forest canopy, trying to see where it was coming from, but when they do see something its already too late. Another person hits the ground hard, right in front of Bonnaire, who jumps back in surprise and almost falls on his backside. Their parachute is still unopened. Porthos quickly looks away with a wince.  
  
“Ok, what the hell?! What is going on here? Who is doing this?” Bonnaire screams, panicking, and as if on cue they hear a low rustle coming from the bushes on their left. Weapons are drawn again, and to Athos and Porthos’ surprise both Bonnaire and Gaudet get pistols pointed towards the noise as well. None of them could have predicted what came out of the underbrush, running towards them at an alarming speed. They all immediately start shooting the creature as soon as they register what they are seeing, with alarmed cries. It looks disturbingly like a very large rabid dog, but the proportions are all wrong. The fangs, dripping with thick saliva look too big to fit in its mouth, and the torso looks oddly oversized, almost like it is hunched over, even running. A series of spikes along its back going all the way to its tail raised like hackles complete the surreal look. And the fact that it takes way more bullets than reasonable to stop it, right in front of them, is highly concerning.  
  
“What the fuck is that?!” Bonnaire actually takes a step back, disgusted and terrified.  
  
“I’ve never heard of anything like this before” Porthos murmurs, rolling the head of the beast with his foot. It looks as if it twitches, and Gaudet starts shooting again, until his pistol is making the dry clicks of an empty barrel. The stifling silence that followed is suddenly broken again by more rustling. Before they start shooting they hear a yell, a very human one, and seconds after a woman surges through the same spot the thing came out from. She stumbles to a halt seeing them, but doesn’t hesitate for long, and runs past them screaming at them to run. Another guy, short and stocky, appears as well, following her and gasping for air. He also yells at them to move, and then three more of the beasts appear, snarling and spitting. They all immediately fall back, and Bonnaire and the now weaponless Gaudet rush after the two newcomers. They end up getting separated, even with Athos doing his best to cover Porthos’ injured side.  
  
The creature that follows Athos manages to get too close, and swipes at him with seriously sharp claws. He barely dodges it, spinning and twisting to the side, but the beast is incredibly agile, and quickly turns around and jumps at him. “ _Merde!_ ” Athos slips on the muddy ground, and to his astonishment that is what saves him, escaping the jaws of the thing by mere centimeters and giving him a clear shot into its unprotected belly. The animal lets out a disturbing yowl, and hurriedly drags itself away and out of sight. He lies there on the mud for another second or so, letting out a rushed breath.


	2. Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athos and Porthos meet new people and strange things start happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely forgot to add this in the first chapter: Disclaimer! I don't own anything you can recognize here, including characters, setting and some plot devices. I also don't intend to offend armed forces of any kind or country here, I have a great deal of respect for people that put their lives on the line to protect others. I also don't mean to offend any category of sports or professions mentioned, I try to avoid stereotypes, and in my defense I can only say that the flaws of the characters I wrote are flaws of the characters and not any real person, and they're also not representations of what I think real life professionals of these sports are like.

Athos scrambles back up, suddenly remembering that Porthos is injured and will need his help. And the others might as well, especially if the two newcomers are civilians. Running back to where he last saw the others he starts following the wide track the beasts left trampling the vegetation, but a mighty roar helps him along and he runs in the direction the sound came from. He arrives just in time to see Porthos, agile as a cat, twisting sharply to the left as the beast pounces, elegantly avoiding its claws and plunging a knife on the back of its neck, felling the beast.

“You make that look very easy” Athos comments impressed and Porthos turns to him with a grin, but when he moves to remove the weapon from the animal he goes very pale and stumbles. “Porthos!” Athos rushes forward, barely catching him before he drops, and they both end up kneeling on the ground.

“Fucking shoulder” Porthos curses in a hiss, hand clamped firmly below the wound.

“It’s still bleeding” Athos notes with a hint of the worry he’s feeling showing in his voice. There’s nothing else he can do apart from keeping it clean and changing the bandages that ended up soaked through, trying to staunch the blood until they escape this place and get to a hospital or something. Frustration welling up, he helps the other man to his feet, and they slowly go in search of the others. A sudden high pitched whistle pierces the air and they both freeze, wondering what that was, but nothing seems to happen, and they decide to move on.

After almost a quarter of an hour they finally find the rest, only three of them standing. They only realize Gaudet isn’t just resting against the roots of one of the largest trees around when they notice the blood surrounding him. When they actually pay attention they can’t believe they didn’t immediately see that a large chunk of his left side, as well as his arm, are completely missing, and _so much blood_. Bonnaire had been sick, and has his back turned to the grisly scene, while the other two are shaken as well, but are definitely military - both have their rifles pointed at Athos and Porthos.

We mean you no harm, we are all obviously in this together.” Athos says tiredly, lowering Porthos gently against a tree on the opposite side of _that tree_. He will have to change his bandages now; they are virtually useless as they are.

“Do you know who kidnapped us?” the woman asks in a strange accent, slowly lowering her gun, while the other man sighs and sits down.

“I wish” Porthos hisses in pain while Athos changes his bandages. “I’d like a round or two against them, face-to-face…” he adds, angrily.

“Whoever they are they must be very powerful, dragging us from all over”  Athos muses, while unwinding the gauze.

“But why?” Bonnaire sounds desperate “why drop us in a _jungle_ in the middle of nowhere, and what the hell kind of creatures are those? Those are not _natural_!”

“Do you think it’s some sort of hybrid?” the other man asks “like, a dodgy secret government experiment?”

“And they needed to test it? And that’s why they dumped us here?! To be food?!” Bonnaire nearly screeches, panicking.

Athos doesn’t believe in conspiracy theories, but that was sounding disturbingly likely. What else could explain such odd creatures, and them being randomly abducted and dropped there to be hunted? But if that was true…

“That means there are more of those beasts around. They wouldn’t let us kill them so easily if there were only a few of them."

“Oh fuck, oh fuck…” Bonnaire starts wringing his hands, twisting his pistol around nervously.

“We have to get out of here before they let those things out again then.” The woman says, and the man gets up.

“Let them out again?” Porthos asks wincing as Athos helps him up.

“Yeah, didn’t you hear whoever-they-are calling them back with that whistle? The thing just turned tail and ran, even though it had that guy for a meal.” Bonnaire turned green as the woman said that, and tried to change the conversation.

“So, we don’t know each other yet, I’m Emile Bonnaire, and those are Cap. Athos and Lt. Porthos…?”

“Pleased to meet you,” the woman says sarcastically “the name is Simone Pepin.”

“John Gallagher, Navy SEAL.” The man adds, and they start moving roughly towards east, away from where the creatures came from.

“But what is the reason for all this?” Porthos grunts “They kidnap a bunch of trained military personnel and some civilians from around the world, to go against these apparently trained creatures in a non-controlled environment? Do they have cameras around? Are they _watching_ us? And honestly, these things are not even that difficult to kill up close, I mean, apart from being really ugly and nearly bulletproof, if you get a knife in it it’s done in for…”

“Those things nearly killed us! They killed Gaudet!” Bonnaire, still nervous spats, annoyed. They are walking in a single line, Athos at the rear with Porthos and Bonnaire in between Simone and Gallagher, so he doesn’t hear Athos’ near whisper to Porthos.

“Not really easy, but one would expect much more from all the trouble they went through taking and bringing us all here. And that’s not even considering the legal implications.”

“Good to know I’m not paranoid” Porthos mumbles back with a lopsided smile and a wince, grabbing his shoulder again.

“Or at least not the only one” Athos smirks, and Porthos has to work hard to stifle a laugh.

They walk for a long time. At least a few hours, Athos thinks, judging by the sun light through the canopy not having changed much, but it feels much longer than that. And the longer they go the slower Porthos becomes. He can see the other is pushing himself beyond his limits, sweat glistening on his face, pale with blood loss, steps increasingly uncertain. They need to stop soon, or else he’s going to collapse. Athos opens his own water bottle, takes a sip and passes it to Porthos, who thanks him.

“No change in terrain, or vegetation” he says softly, returning the bottle “we might be at this for a while…” and Athos sees in his eyes that he knows he won’t be able to go much further like this.

“We should take a break” Athos suggests to the group, and Bonnaire immediately flops down to the ground exhausted.

“We need to keep moving and find our way out of here before they decide we are dog food again” Gallagher says, walking a bit further but stopping a little ahead. Porthos gingerly sits down, holding his arm awkwardly, taking a drink from his own water container. He lets his head thunk back against a tree behind him, eyes closed in pain.

Athos has no idea how he managed to get so attached to the other man so soon. He is very worried about him, more than he thinks he should be about an all but stranger to him. Then again, they are definitely not in a normal situation, it is normal for people to form attachments more easily with others in the same predicament, especially life threatening ones like this. Largely, Athos blames his fiancé. She definitely thawed his heart a lot, even his brother mentioned his recent mellowing, and he smiles wistfully. Hopefully they will return before they both worry too much. Maybe they weren’t even alerted yet, the training was secret after all, and the chain of command might be still deciding how much they can divulge right now…

Taking his own psyche out of his mind for now, he unwraps Porthos’ bandages, and winces in sympathy. The wound is very red and swollen around the edges, especially in the back, not a good sign.

“It’s getting infected, I need to wash it again” he apologises, and Porthos grunts in acceptance. His first aid kit is getting seriously depleted, only enough disinfectant for this next cleaning. Gloomily he thinks that they might need much more if they are in the middle of the Amazon forest, it might take them days to get out. Porthos hisses in pain and bites his own lips to avoid any more noises as Athos dumps the PVP-I and efficiently cleans and re-bandages his wound, but not fast enough according to the others.

“C’mon, let’s go” Gallagher presses annoyed, the others already up.

“It won’t help us if we are too tired to fight those things when they catch up with us” Athos says disdainfully back, annoyed at their lack of compassion and foresight. Of course the beasts can outrun them, and since the forest doesn’t seem to be thinning out any time soon, it’s inevitable really.

“They wouldn’t catch up with us if we weren’t so slow” Simone snarks already walking again, Bonnaire scrambling to follow, afraid of being left behind. Athos is about to reply, but Porthos stops him with a tired smile, getting back on his feet slowly. They keep marching on in silence.

 

 


	3. The River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions are being made, not all of them good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very very happy people are enjoying this! I feel very humbled and thankful, I was very nervous about posting this story, and now I get super excited when I finish typing up another page of scribbles in green ink from my little notebook! and it's all because of you! =)
> 
> The whole thing is going to be quite big, and there's a lot of space to add little tidbits you might fancy seeing here, so let me know if you have any special requests and I'll try to find a way to make it happen! 
> 
> The work is not beta-read, some mistakes might have escaped, let me know if you see them!

It can’t still be daytime. Porthos knows that being injured and having a fever doesn’t exactly help his perceptions, but even if they had arrived in the first hours of the day (which they hadn’t, the sun had already been half way up), it felt as if they had been walking for at least a whole day. And they were not in Antarctica. They approached a narrow river a few hours before, and after some deliberation filtered some water into their water bottles, so they could be having some realistic hallucinations, he muses, smiling. “Yup, blood loss” he thinks, stifling a giggle, knowing he’d only irritate the others and worry Athos.

“We have to rest.” Athos said, his voice carrying in the heavy, humid air around them. “Exhaustion won’t help any of us”.

Porthos feels very self-conscious and embarrassed hearing that. He’s sure all of the others, maybe apart from Bonnaire, could go on quite a while still. It was just a shoulder injury, no big deal, and yet he felt so tired and dizzy. They approach the meandering river again, trying to walk in as straight a line as possible, hoping to get as far away as possible before the night comes. This time however the river dug deep into the ground, creating tall river banks on both sides. Gallagher climbs down carefully into it, disappearing briefly from Porthos’ and Athos’s sight, and he says:

“Seems fine to cross here”. He jumps across the river bed and starts climbing the other margin. Pepin slides down next, almost falling when a branch snags on her trousers, but managing to right herself and jump across as well. Bonnaire has worse luck and ends up slipping, falling halfway into the cool water cursing loudly, dark mud sliding down his face. Porthos climbs down a bit to the left, avoiding the muddy slide Bonnaire created, but when the ravine starts collapsing under him and he tries to stop his fall using his injured arm his vision goes grey. He’d have ended up in the river as well if not for Athos’ quick reflexes. They both stumble down and even further to the left, Athos easing Porthos down with his head between his knees, in the shade provided by tree roots holding an overhanging ledge.

“Easy, just breathe” he says worriedly, wiping the sweat from his forehead and frowning “You have a fever”.

“I’m fine” Porthos mumbles, but doesn’t move from his position, aware he’d probably pass out if he did.

“We need to stop” Athos says firmly to everyone, getting his handkerchief wet and using it to cool down Porthos’ brow. Pepin sighs and Gallagher replies in a bored tone:

“You mean he needs to stop”

“We are all going to be too exhausted to fight those things when they find us again if we don’t rest now.” Athos tries to reason, frustration welling up for having to repeat the same argument. Of course part of the reason is Porthos - he can’t go on. But any good strategist would realize that their best chances would be resting and preparing to fight. If they got caught in the state they were in they would be slaughtered. “You must realize we won't be capable to defend ourselves if we keep this up.”

Gallagher sighs “It seems we disagree. Well, I guess there’s an easy solution, whoever wants to rest, by all means, rest. I’ll keep going, since I don’t want to become dog food.” He says, and starts moving away.

“Nice to meet y’all” Pepin adds, and follows him.

Bonnaire looks back and forth a couple of times, and says “Sorry gentleman. I wouldn't be much help in a fight anyway, so there’s no point in me staying and being a liability to you, right? It was an honor meeting you both; I trust you’ll be fine, no hard feelings, right?” Porthos is the next to sigh, and Athos comments:

“You’re making a mistake Bonnaire, you all are. I hope you survive, good luck.”

Bonnaire looks as if he’s considering his chances again, but hears Porthos wincing and follows the others, rapidly disappearing in the vegetation.

“You should go too, Athos.” Porthos says quietly. “We both know I’m slowing us down, you might outrun those things if you go with them”.

“No, we wouldn’t.” Athos replies pragmatically. “They are much faster and probably know the terrain better as well, we still don’t know who took us and for what purpose. For all we know they might be corralling us to our doom. Hell, we don’t even know which country we are!” Porthos huffs a laugh, and Athos smiles. “Our best bet is to keep moving, but we need to be rested and alert, they have too many advantages already.” Athos continues, getting Porthos’ canteen open and handing it to him. “Now let me check your shoulder again”.

“It’s infected, isn’t it?” Porthos grunts, moving to help Athos to remove his vest and give him access to the wound again.

“It is, I’m sorry” Athos winces, seeing the red puffiness spreading even further than before, hot to the touch. When he presses lightly on it strong smelling pus leaks out. “It doesn’t look good”.

“Not your fault” Porthos grits his teeth when Athos prods it again. “How much more antiseptic we got? We can’t waste it all, we might need it later…”

“It’s not being wasted if you need it, Porthos.” Athos counters, already opening the first aid kit again “Here, take this” he hands him the painkiller capsules. “Might help a little with the symptoms”.

“So, what’s the plan? Aahh…” Porthos asks, trying to distract himself from the burning pain. “We keep going the same way?”

“I think we should follow the river downstream, and try to find some shelter for the night, however long that takes.” Athos says, re-bandaging his shoulder tightly.

“It’s taking an awful long time, innit?” Porthos comments, relieved he’s not the only one that notices it.

“We have to have been dumped here pretty early, we’ve been here for at least some 15 hours, maybe more…” Athos grumbles, annoyed “But I honestly don’t know…  We could be seriously overestimating, but it’s really weird.” Athos isn’t usually this verbose, but with fraying nerves and a mind-boggling problem at hand he ends up babbling a bit, to his consternation.

“Well, night has to arrive soon anyway, no matter where we are. I guess you’re right, and we should start looking for shelter then…” Porthos tries to get up, but blanches and Athos forces him back down.

“Not yet, we should rest a bit longer, and start thinking about food. Any MRE’s?” Porthos pats his front pockets but he knows he doesn’t, his training group was supposed to be picked up at the time he was taken. “Me neither, I guess we can try to fish something…” Athos states dubiously, looking at the stream in front of them. He remains seated for now, scanning their surroundings and leaning back against the bank, enjoying the shade next to Porthos. A couple of large birds fly by, disrupting the quiet, but soon they can just hear the murmur of the water and the wind against the tree leaves. Porthos sighs heavily and closes his eyes.

“So, where were you exactly when this kidnapping thing happened? If it’s not classified or anything?” he asks softly, trying to stay alert through the haze of his exhaustion.

“I was supervising a training mission, search and rescue” Athos says “Funny thing, that now I went missing…”

“Hah, true!” Porthos smiles sardonically “Well, at least they won’t think you’re a deserter”.

“Were you on tour?”

“Training as well, in the Highlands. Good thing it’s summer, the gear would be totally inappropriate for this place” Porthos laugh, and promptly hisses in pain when the movement jars his shoulder “This thing is getting bad, isn’t it?”

 “You’ll be fine if you keep taking the painkillers and we keep cleaning it, it has to clear out at some point.” Athos tries to reassure him, even though they’re almost out of both medicines.

“Yeah, about that, we should save some of that for emergencies”

“An emergency such as you having an infected wound and needing it? I completely agree.”

“Heh, you have a very posh English accent when you’re being ‘superior’” Porthos’ smile grows as he leans back against the packed soil under the tree roots. While he’s adjusting his position he misses how Athos’ expression falls.

“I lived in London part of my childhood” Athos surprises himself sharing this.

“Hmm, went to study in one of those fancy boarding schools?”

“Ahh, yes…” Athos doesn’t want to elaborate. Luckily Porthos just drops it, breathing in deeply and getting comfortable.

The silence around them seems very peaceful. The sound of the stream in front of them almost drowns out the sound of the birds and trees, and Athos would gladly just relax and take a nap, but he remembers very well how fast those beasts were, and he knows he can’t even think of risking it. Not with Porthos depending on him.


	4. Long Term

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small detour is found, and a sight Porthos doesn't want to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Thank you so much for all the kudos, comments and bookmarks, I love you all so much! <3  
> Chapters will be a bit slower coming, more or less once a week, depending on the amount of work I get...   
> For those waiting anxiously, Aramis will show up very soon, probably in the next chapter! D'Artagnan and Constance will take some time still, as well as some special familiar faces ;-)
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own anything apart from the weird plot (even parts of that are a bit adapted from the movie or the series sometimes...), and any bad characters' traits are not at all representative of their respective affiliations/countries of origin.

“Hey Porthos” Athos says quietly “we should probably get moving soon. We need to find shelter for the night, and we definitely need to get away from the tracks we left”. Porthos makes an unhappy sound, but opens his eyes and starts moving.

“Sorry for conking out on ya” he says, ashamed. “Didn’ mean to…”

“Nonsense, you needed it, and besides, I rested as well” Athos dismisses, practical. They slowly climb the other margin of the river, after splashing some water on their faces and refilling their canteens. They decide to veer south instead of following the others’ direction, staying close to the river for now, and if it turned westwards again they would abandon it, but for now staying close was their best bet. Porthos’ fever wasn’t abating, and Athos was afraid his inadequate knowledge of proper longer term care would prove to be dangerous to Porthos’ survival. He had cleaned the wound again, against Porthos’ judgement, and it was an even angrier red now, pus slowly seeping out. In theory he knew what the next step should be according to the survival trainings he took: cauterization. The thought alone had him breaking out in a cold sweat; he had never done it, and was terrified of causing more harm than good at this point.

“Sky is finally turning dark” Porthos murmurs looking up to the dense canopy above. “Hope it’s night and not fucking rain…”

“Surely it can’t stay day much longer” Athos says, puzzled.

“Your watch is also fucked?” Porthos asks surprised. “I thought only mine was bad”

“Maybe whoever took us thought it would be funny to break them?” Athos says, sceptical “It would have been easier to just remove them…”

A loud screeching noise interrupts him. They both startle badly and get into position at each other’s back, weapons raised.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Porthos whispers, after silence takes over.

“Too close, is what it was” Athos replies, searching. The leaves on his right rustle, and both turn swiftly, weapons trained on the bush. Just then loud, chaotic stomping comes from the opposite direction, and they see several wild boars careening in their direction. Athos and Porthos immediately dart away from their path, but the animals turn to follow them, so they start running. The fading daylight plays against them, barely visible brambles and low hanging vines tripping and slapping against their faces.

Suddenly the ground disappears. The falling sensation pushing their stomachs up is paired up with their wildly beating hearts, and that and the cool wind reminds Athos of their arrival in this cursed place. They hit the steep ravine one after the other rolling down and kicking against boulders and trees on their path. Athos can see one of the unfortunate animals flying above them, just as unlucky as they were, and then a blinding pain and darkness.

* * *

 

 

Porthos wakes up with a start. The sharp pain on his injured shoulder now has the company of a nasty ache in his lower back, probably acquired against a rock or tree on the way down. He moans in pain, and slowly sits up. Looking around makes him dizzy, but the years of training have ingrained in him the need to check his surroundings. Right in front of him is the sheer rock wall he and Athos unwillingly navigated down, and on all other sides the dense forest is only interrupted by the area covered in the debris they dislodged on their fall.

Squinting slightly seems to help with the blurriness, and he turns his head around looking for Athos, hoping desperately that he’s fine. Worse than being injured, kidnapped and in the middle of a forest would be to lose the only friend he had found here. Flea and Charon would certainly disapprove if they knew what he was thinking, calling Athos a friend barely knowing the guy, but circumstances were exceptional he thinks, defensive. Besides, Athos could have saved himself instead of staying to take care of him, that had to count for something.

Looking around didn’t magically produce the other man, so Porthos slowly gets on his hands and knees before adventuring into a more vertical position. His arm can’t take any weight, and his back hurts something awful, but he has to find Athos. “It had to get dark now…” he grumbles, using the nearest tree to remain upright. Following the path of the destruction their landslide caused he goes to the left, but immediately wishes he hadn’t. A leg or an arm, meat pink and mangled beyond hope with deep gouges, completely drenched in blood is poking out of a pile of debris. Porthos turns around, holding back vomit and breathing slowly through his nose. “Oh god” he whispers. Unbidden, tears well up in his eyes. “Please, no…”

A growl to his left startles him so badly he almost loses his footing. Before he can get his gun up, Athos stumbles into view, hand covering a nasty gash on his hairline.

“Porthos!” he says approaching him quickly, and Porthos lets his breath whoosh out, gun back in its holster.

“You had me worried there, mate” he bends down, bracing hands on his knees, eyes closed.

“Are you alright?” Athos worries, helping him to sit down.

“There’s something dead that way, maybe one of them pigs?” Porthos says, heartbeat finally slowing down and nausea abating. Athos understands what went unsaid, and pats him on his good shoulder.

“We have to find shelter for the night” he says. “I saw a cave of sorts that way, seemed empty. Want to check it out?”

“Yeah, sure” Porthos grunts, and finally both move away from their landing site. The cave is just a few hundreds of meters away, close to where the river they were following cascades down and meanders further into the woods. “At least we got a shortcut away from them beasts” Porthos quips, as they turn on their flashlights and inspect the cave. There’s not much to it, more of a re-entrance in the cliff than a proper cave, but it would do for the night.

Porthos leans against the back wall and slides down, hissing in pain when his shoulder drags against it. Athos turns off his own flashlight, using Porthos’ to inspect the wound again. In spite of the poor light Porthos sees his reaction. “Bad, huh?”

“It’s really infected now” Athos sighs, opening his first aid kit. Before cleaning it again, this time without the disinfectant, Porthos interrupts him:

“Don’t think I haven’t seen your ‘ead. You better take care of that, we don’t need two sick losers here”.

Athos relents, if only to make Porthos behave, and quickly patches up his cut. It could probably do with a stitch or two, but the bandages will have to do for now. He cleans Porthos’ injury the best he can with water, trying to wash away as much of the fetid pus as he can without hurting Porthos too much.

“You feel warm” Athos worries, clasping his hand on Porthos’ good shoulder in a comforting gesture, after rewrapping the other and forcing him to take painkillers again. Porthos’ answer is just a mumbled thank you, as he adjusts his body to be more comfortable.

Silence stretches on and Athos thinks Porthos has fallen asleep by the time he can see a faint glow through the dense canopy of the forest. The moon will be a curse and a blessing for the next few nights, he thinks, helping both the two of them and unfortunately their enemies to see further. He sighs when he realises he’s subconsciously accepted they’re not escaping this nightmare any time soon.


	5. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally find Aramis, or Aramis finds them. Porthos needs help, and they definitely are in way over their heads...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, a brand new chapter! I'm very sorry for the delay, I can only reiterate that this fic is alive and well, and I have the ending written already, its a matter of making sense of my ramblings and typing it up... I might be able to get a schedule going on in my life soon, so I'll probably be able to post more regularly, maybe even once a week if I'm lucky...   
> Anyway, let me know what you think! 
> 
> A bit of gore at the end there, and Porthos is very sick, the poor guy...

Athos wakes up with a gasp. A nightmare where Porthos gets dragged away by one of the beasts while Athos can’t move has his heart racing, and for one brief instant he thinks the previous day didn’t happen either. The forest outside the mouth of the cave dashes his hopes. He can’t remember falling asleep, but he remembers the faint daylight starting to highlight the shadows of the trees, so it probably wasn’t for long.

 

He stretches, twisting his neck around and hearing a satisfying pop, and slowly gets up to check on Porthos. His fever persisted through the night, and it doesn’t look as if it’s leaving anytime soon. Athos curses. The day brings new challenges. The night had been calm, so either the beasts only hunted during the day or they had managed to escape them. In any case they have to keep moving away, to put as much distance between them and their captors. And if they were lucky they could stumble upon some village and get help. The language barrier seemed like a very small problem compared to everything else that had happened so far.

 

Another issue was food. Athos had no experience fishing without a proper pole, but he could probably set some snares and catch some rodents. The vegetation was definitely a mystery to him, but maybe Porthos had had some more survival training in jungles and might know some edible plants. That would have to wait though, since Porthos is still asleep.

 

Athos leaves the relative safety of the cave to get some water and relieve himself, and sees the pile of debris Porthos mentioned last night. He approaches it, and notices that the dead ‘something’ was the boar that fell with them, as Porthos imagined. If he could get a fire going he could cook it, but smoke this close to their captors was a very bad idea. The lack of food was not the best thing, especially with Porthos the way he was, but they really had no choice. Sighing, he goes back inside and gently wakes Porthos. He’s burning up.

 

“Here” Athos gives him some water, and Porthos makes an effort to drink the whole canteen.

 

“Time to go, huh?” he whispers, voice raspy. Athos can see him struggling to focus his eyes on him.

 

“Take this first, and wait a bit so it can start acting before we go” Athos hands him some more painkillers, and Porthos takes them without protest. That worries Athos; the little he knows of the other man includes arguing every step of the way against ‘wasting’ their admittedly short supply of medicine. Athos checks his temperature again with the back of his hand; it’s becoming an involuntary habit by now.

 

“We should probably keep following the river, right?” Porthos asks, sitting up slowly. His face scrunched up in pain makes Athos wish they could stay where they are.

 

“It’s the safest bet, yes.”

 

“Do you think we’ll get outta here alive?” Athos freezes. That’s not a very likely scenario, but the thought of giving up hope leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He takes his time, packing their kits, before replying:

 

“I don’t know, we’ll just have to do our best.” Great, he thinks sarcastically, very reassuring, Athos.

 

“Eh, I guess you’re right” Porthos huffs a laugh. Athos helps him get up then, and finally they make their way out.

* * *

 

 

Porthos’ movements are slower and more uncertain as they progress. The pain in his shoulder is becoming unbearable, and dizziness is becoming a constant. He decides Athos has some sort of sixth sense, every time he feels he is about to pass out he suggests a break. But they both know he can’t go on much longer. Midday has come and gone, today the hours seem to be running as normal, and Porthos thinks Athos will soon suggest another break, but Porthos isn’t sure that will help this time. That they might get caught because of him is the main thought running through his mind.

 

They find a hidden clearing surrounded by dense bushes on all sides, and they decide to rest there. Porthos collapses against the sturdiest one and Athos rushes to his side.

 

“Non non, c’mon” he removes Porthos’ bandanna, drenches it with water and presses it to his brow, trying to cool him down and wake him up. He has decided to get the thermometer from his kit, but aborts when Porthos moans in distress, and instead waves the bandanna in the air to cool it and presses it again to his friend’s face and then neck. “Please, don’t you dare, you hear me?” he mutters, panicking. Porthos doesn’t react, low, pain-filled gasps his only reply, dark skin glistening with sweat, eyes pressed close tightly.

 

Athos needs to get more water from the river, but he’s terrified of leaving Porthos alone and… he can’t lose another friend. So he delays that as much as he can. He busies himself with removing Porthos’ outer layers, trying to cool him down. Getting the bandanna cooler again. Inspecting the infected wound. If Porthos doesn’t get better soon he’ll risk starting a fire, and he’ll try to cauterize it. Better have a horrible scar, maybe even movement impairment, than the alternative. Hopefully those beasts, or their captors, won’t find them. Hopefully Porthos will get better. Hopefully they’ll find help, and get out of this nightmare.

 

Athos never hated being a pragmatic person before. So he huffs angrily, checks the bandanna one last time, and goes to refill their canteens. He goes around, tries to hide their previous tracks the best he can, brushing at it with a branch from the bushes, and then a good half a kilometre back creates a fake trail to the river, trying to confuse their hunters. He hopes they’ll lose it in the river and give up, or that it will at least buy them some time.

 

Once he circles back to the opposite margin of their hideout he makes some more trails. Then, through the river bed, he makes his way back. His blood runs cold and he nearly trips and gives himself away when he turns the bend and sees a creature among the polished boulders in the opposite margin.

 

Shaped like a human, but obviously not, it’s skin is a silky pale grey-green. Taller than even Porthos, maybe well over 7 feet, the thing is hunched down, long spindly arms hovering parallel above the water surface, bald head turned away from him. Athos moves very carefully, hand reaching his Glock in his waist holster.

 

The thing moves faster than he can see, water splashing, and both arms now holding a large fish, dead from a long ‘finger’ through its head, the only evidences of movement.

 

Heart hammering against his ribcage, he brings the pistol up, points it at the creature. He breathes carefully, and sweat beads on his forehead.

 

“Si disparas los demonios nos encuentran pronto, ¿cachai?” A voice behind him says, and he starts so badly he trips and falls into the river, Glock safely above the water testament to years of training ingrained in his muscles. He swiftly turns it in the direction of the newcomer, but his better footing and with surprise on his side easily grabs it from Athos and slides the safety back on in a smooth movement. That alone makes Athos pause. The new guy is young. His clothes look old and are stained probably beyond repair, but his hair is clean, his beard is neatly trimmed, and his weapons seem all in good condition. It looks like he was kidnapped like them, maybe dropped further away? Maybe from an active combat zone, if his clothes are any indication.

 

“What?” Athos asks after his quick assessment. That sounded like Spanish, but the accent was definitely not from Spain.

 

“English?” the man asks, and continues after receiving a nod “you don’t want to shoot things here, the demons will definitely hear and get you.” At Athos’ perplexed look, he adds “you haven’t seen them yet. Lucky. Hope you don’t, that way you might survive longer”. Then he holds the Glock by the barrel, towards Athos. “Here. These fishy ones are probably deaf, and can barely see us. I think they only see up close?”

 

Athos holsters his gun and looks to the creature, and sure enough, it’s happily munching on its fish, paying them no mind.

 

“You only really have to worry about the wolf-like ones, and the demons of course. The rest are basically what you would find in a normal jungle, no need to kill them.” The stranger says, turning around to leave.

 

“Wait!” Athos exclaims “What’s going on here? Who are you? How do you know these… creatures?”

 

The man seems startled, looking at Athos as if he was the weird humanoid thing out of a Lovecraft novel eating fish. Then he laughs, a quiet sharp thing, that he smothers quickly.

 

“Yes, you just arrived, no? you won’t believe me if I say, better if you see it yourself. The name is Aramis, shame circumstances aren’t better…?”

 

“Athos…”

 

“And I know ‘these things’ because I’ve been here a while. Questions answered, good luck!” And Aramis turns again.

 

“Wait please!” Athos calls again. Aramis stops, sighs, and looks back at him “Can you help us? Are there others around? Were you kidnapped as well?” Athos feels uncomfortable asking this many questions. He’s not usually the one trying to maintain conversation. But he doesn’t want to be alone, and Porthos needs all the help he can get. Aramis takes a while, but then says:

 

“’Us’? of course you have friends…” Athos feels simultaneously outraged and amused. He had never been accused of being friendly before, but he felt like a hysterical laugh would scare Aramis off, so he refrained. “There are always others, the demons usually bring more every couple of weeks or so… very few escape through the cracks and manage to stay hidden from them. All the humans and these ones” he points to the grey creature “were brought here. The demons capture us somehow, drop us here, and then hunt us down. It’s their sport, I suppose” he runs a hand through his hair nervously. Athos can’t help but notice an angry red scar on his hairline, above the right temple. “Look, I don’t think there’s a way out, I’m sorry, just… do your best to survive. Sorry you ended up in this situation too, but just remember to keep your head down, and don’t go around shooting things!” Aramis smiles, and turns to leave yet again.

 

“How about making fires?” Aramis freezes in place and sighs. “My friend has an infected wound, we tried cleaning it but it’s not getting better, I might have to cauterize it. Is it safe to make fires?”

 

“Give him some antibiotics, you have first aid kits, no?”

 

“We finished them, and it still hasn’t cleared out.”

 

“You… you finished two courses of antibiotics and it hasn’t cleared out?” He asked in disbelief “how did you manage that?” Athos bristles.

 

“I’m sorry I’m not a paramedic, I followed the instructions the training said!” he says angrily.

 

“What? No, I mean how you managed the dosages, how long has he been taking them?” Aramis shakes his head and lifts both hands placating. “It’s either some super bacteria, and your friend is out of luck, or something is wrong… I’m sorry, I guess I was rude. I was my squad’s medic, do you want me to take a look?” Before Athos could thank him he continues in a whisper “Then I can leave you alone, god knows I’ll only bring bad luck…”

 

Athos decides not to comment. Porthos and he could certainly use another person in their team, especially someone that had more experience in this place. So he leads the way to Porthos in silence, worry returning with a vengeance. He took too long… What if…

 

But Porthos was exactly where he left him. The bandanna was mostly dry, so he wet it again. Aramis goes straight for the bandaged shoulder, unwrapping it carefully and hissing in sympathy when he sees the mess.

 

“We need to debride it, and then drain it. Let me see your kits” He asks, and Athos doesn’t hesitate. Porthos had remained deathly still while Aramis poked around. “Conchetumadre…” Aramis hisses, pressing the sides of the wound and seeing the pus leaking. “We can’t do it here, we are too exposed, they might find us.” He seems to struggle about what to say, but then finally decides “I know a place, help me carry him”.

 

 


End file.
